


A Moment You'll Never Remember, And A Night You'll Never Forget

by BloomingSnow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Lesbian Ginny Weasley, M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Self-Denial, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, sirius black still dead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloomingSnow/pseuds/BloomingSnow
Summary: Mr. Draco Malfoy was most definitely a man of habit and routine. He was also most definitely not gay, and nothing could possibly change his heterosexuality unless it was alcohol or something else. That something else is the bloody Chosen One.Could a one night stand that Draco tried so hard to forget, be the one that will lead to self-love and acceptance?A coming age story about the process of finding yourself, and coming to terms with your sexuality, and learning to love the people around you.





	A Moment You'll Never Remember, And A Night You'll Never Forget

**Author's Note:**

> This work was a part of a bet that I made with a friend. Moony, if you're reading this. I WON.  
> I tried to stick to the canon storyline, but this is the way I imagine them falling in love, none of the characters are mine, they are all JK Rowling's and only the story idea is mine. I do not claim ownership of Potterverse.  
> I don't know yet how many chapters this will have, but it's going to be around 3-5.  
> I should mention that everything that Draco and Harry do is consensual, yes they're both under the influence but neither is trying to take advantage of each other and I do not support that kind of behavior.  
> I should also mention that I'm still figuring out formatting with this thing, sorry for any confusion with the text.  
> Thank you for the support, and a comment/kudos are super welcome! (I will be adding other tags as the story progresses)  
> -BloomingSnow

Mr. Draco Malfoy was most definitely a man of habit and routine.  
Every morning he woke up in his king size bed, feeling the soft material of the bed sheets with his fingers, inhaling the flowery scent of the fabric softener. It was a calming smell, and every morning he was tempted to sleep in and curl within those sheets, but he got up. His morning continued with his cup of Ceylon black tea with no sugar and sitting on the sofa reading the Daily Prophet. He always starts with the first couple of pages containing the news, he then continues to the “International news” section, and finishes off with reading the scores for the latest matches and any articles related to them.   
After putting his finished cup of tea in the sink, Draco Malfoy then apparates away to his rather spacious office, where his assistant ,or secretary, Amelia is waiting for him. And that’s where he stays throughout the day. He sorts his magical law business, meets a few clients, and at quarter past four Amelia brings him his second cup of tea for the day accompanied by two blueberry scones.   
At exactly half past six Draco Malfoy departs from his office and goes right back where he started his day. He makes himself his third cup of tea (unless it was a bad day, then that’s a whiskey, thank you very much) and sits down on the same sofa and reads. He then washes his dishes, prepares dinner, and solves his undone crossword from the morning paper, and at about 10:35 PM he goes to bed.   
After the war, when the Minister for Magic has changed and corruption has started to lift off from the ministry, a new idea was introduced. Lawyers, and other muggle positions in law enforcement have been added. In fact, Mr. Draco Malfoy himself decided he will continue in his studies and add wizarding law somewhere there and will join this “absurd muggle position”. Of course, he did not meant that (too) seriously. In fact, over the next years he himself has decided to start adapting to muggle environment and using those actually-pretty-useful inventions (“a microwave! Blaise, you don’t have to make new food every time OR use magic!”).   
The fact that he decided to make that big step towards accepting muggles and muggleborns was also a reason to him moving into a muggle flat in London, and was also a reason for his father not to talk to him anymore (unless it was one of those: “ Lucius, send an owl to your son,” that Narcissa did every once in a while). But Draco was learning, and he was actually quite enjoying this learning process.   
Today was a Friday, and on Fridays Draco Malfoy doesn’t really follow his usual evening routine. After he’s finished in his own office that was located in a muggle building, he flicks his wand to turn off the lights, says goodbye to Amelia (who will stay there for at least another half an hour to finish off her work) and apparates back to his flat. He will put down his work bag, he will take a shower and change into more casual clothes, and he will head out.   
You see, when Draco started discovering the muggle world he found this rather fascinating thing called “clubs”, of course that wasn’t like the dueling club he attended in his second year, or a club for much poshier people that his father forced him to attend with him (“It’s to introduce you to our kind, Draco. The wealthy and the important, believe me they will build your path,”). No, it was a dim lighted place, with colourful lights playing around, and very loud music blasting out of speakers, and a bar located somewhere in the used space. There were people dancing and it was truly an enthralling scene. Bodies shining with sweat, hair flipping, smiles and unheard laughs, people were enjoying themselves, and Draco started to get addicted to enjoying himself. He was finally getting to do things he wanted to do and actually have fun.   
Draco went to a place called The Blue Spot every Friday, and although he frequent visits, no one really remembered him. It seems as if the bartenders were changing every week, and people drunk (or high) on both alcohol and self enjoyment didn’t remember him. You could not get judged on being here, because no one could remember anything after.   
The Blue Spot was an interesting place, you got there from a side of a brick building, and over the door there was a neon blue sign in cursive with the place’s name on it. Once you walk pass the door you will go through a smoke filled corridor (that strongly smelled of weed) with couples or single people standing around the walls, either making out, or smoking, or try to lure you in like sirens. As you were walking in that corridor it was like being in a different dimension, you could hear the music booming in front of you but you didn’t really pay attention to it. You could feel the smoke wrapping itself around you like a blanket, but could you really? It was a different reality and Draco loved every second of it.   
As you started nearing the end of the corridor you started seeing a mosh pit of dancing bodies, and the music was now surrounding you, almost like water. In different places of that same room were exotic dancers, both men and women. And in the very far back there were sofas, almost like booths where people were sitting with their company, laughing, and talking over the music and loud crowd, more often than not with drinks on the tables and cigarettes or shishas or whatever else they were smoking.   
When Draco walked into that space he headed straight to the bar, and order himself at least two drinks before heading to dance. He will carefully look over the crowd to examine everyone and then he will go and dance with them, sometimes a girl or a rather muscular men would come around him and he would just awkwardly dance away. But he was enjoying himself.   
At some point in the night, he went back to the bar, he sat down on the stool on the very far end of it and ordered another more drinks (as the last two started to wear off). He was isolated from the time running outside of the Blue Spot, and he didn’t care. He knew he will not apparate back home because his mind will be to fucked up, and he knew that he will stop a cab, and he knew that most likely there will be a man sitting with him in the back, and he knew that he will be kissing him around the neck, and he knew that in the morning after he’s either gonna be there or maybe he will walk out. And knowing that made him feel a little bit sad and lonely, but he was already drinking. His mind and body started to feel fuzzy and a little warm. In fact, it was a little too warm and fuzzy. To the point where when he spotted the man sitting next to him he didn’t recognize him.   
The man sat on his right, right next to him, and he was smiling at him. Draco turned more towards him. The man looked about his age, he had a scruffy stubble, verging on a beard, and the same messy dark hair. He had wonderful eyes, they looked warm, bloodshot and a little tired but warm and deep, with little wrinkles from smiling around them. Draco decided he liked that person, and he already knew who he will be with in that cab. 

==================================================================

The man’s own mind was even fuzzier and more disoriented than Draco’s. He was at the Blue Spot for about half an hour before the slim, tall, blond man came in through that corridor. He didn’t see him at first. He was dancing right in the heart of the dance floor surrounded by people and sweat. It wasn’t until later that he noticed that the same man is dancing next to him, some hungry looks from both men and women lingering to him. He liked that man, he was dancing with no cares, but he still looked a little uptight, his eyes still looked worrisome and responsible behind all those drinks.   
When the blond went and sat down at the bar he decided to follow him. He sat right next to him. The blond looked at him, he examined his features and stared at him with something like an open mouth as if he’s seeing something magical, something that was not supposed to be there. He offered the blond a smile, and got one back too. A rush of self confidence was flowing through his veins as he introduced himself: “I’m Harry,” he said and continued to smile, “a lovely night innit?”.   
The blond giggled and answered him with the same warmth Harry was talking to him, although it might be just the alcohol: “Indeed it is! I used to know someone named Harry,” his smile was now not as wide, but rather a smirk of nostalgia, his eyes looking at Harry and maybe looking for something within him.   
“Well I hope that you’ll find me as a better substitute than that other lad you knew,” He said while looking over the man, realising he still didn’t know his name “Can I buy you a drink?”.   
The other nodded: “I suppose, as long as I see you’re not trying to slip something into it,” he said with a seemingly careless shrug, as Harry called over the bartender to order two sweet, but alcohol filled drinks.  
“What did you say your name was?”   
“I didn’t. It’s Draco”   
“An unusual name,”   
“Yes, my family is one big scoop of helluva weird names” Draco said scoffing a little.   
“Funny enough I also used to know someone named Draco, a proper prick though, that’s what he was,” Harry said, laughing and shaking his head as if trying to remember  
something.   
“Well I hope you’ll find me as a better substitute than that other guy you knew,” Draco  
now said grinning wickedly, looking as if he’s trying to seduce Harry to unspoken thing. And Harry was sure those were in fact Draco’s intentions (as well as his own).   
They drank their drinks, and Harry slipped his hand over to Draco’s thigh, Draco just smirking to himself knowingly.   
Not ten minutes after and Harry is pinning Draco against the wall of the murky corridor that is the entrance to the Blue Spot. His lips trailing over Draco’s white porcelain skin, hot breath making the blond shudder, and the smell of alcohol surrounding them.   
Harry kisses his neck and leaves light purple marks on Draco’s skin, he catches his lips and kisses him, nibbling on the lower lip with his teeth before kissing the panting and impatient man again.   
“Let’s go to my place,” Harry whispers in Draco’s ear

 

===================================================================

“Let’s go to my place,”  
Draco hesitates, but notices how awfully tight his jeans have become, and realizes that he is far too gone to defend his “heterosexuality”. So instead he just nods and catches Harry in another kiss as they run out of the crowded club. ‘I’ll have time to regret this in the morning, when, and if, I remember it’.

===================================================================

Draco woke up in a room that wasn’t his own. He was wrapped in white bed sheets that weren’t his, but still held a pleasant smell. Lavender and a man’s cologne. ‘A man’s cologne’. He started getting up, contemplating his surroundings when he realised what happened. He didn’t remember much but his mind was just one continues: ‘shit. It happened again’.   
His own head was now throbbing as he sat on the edge of the bed, shifting nervously. Thank goodness no one was besides him, but at the same time that only made his escape harder. ‘Just get dressed and get out of the room Draco, you’ll be fine, he’s probably showering or something’. So he did. He got dressed back into his skinny jeans and a shirt and started walking out of the room.  
A sudden smell hit his nose, it wasn’t bad, it was nice. Breakfast. Someone was making breakfast. He continued walking towards the exit (that he barely found. The flat was an unknown territory to him that he had to investigate), when he came out to the kitchen and saw him standing there.   
The man was standing with his back facing Draco but he could still recognize that mop of a black hair. ‘Don’t be stupid, not only Potter has messy black hair’. The same man now turned around and dropped the spatula that he was holding in his hand.   
“Draco?”  
“Harry,”   
‘Okay now you can assume it’s Harry bloody Potter’  
“I assume we… shouldn’t be talking about this” Draco said, making it a statement. Not a question.  
“Don’t be daft Draco, I already made breakfast and I am not going to be wasting that one extra plate,” He didn’t look exactly worried but his eyes were like a green flame perhaps indicating another possibility.  
“Potter, I really think it’s better that I go.” He said it with such force that even Harry himself was surprised and taken back, “ Excuse me for staying longer than necessarily,” Draco said and with those words he apparated away. Leaving a gaping Harry standing in the kitchen. 

===================================================================

Draco would much rather forget that little thing that he now referred to as: the incident. He bathed in self pity and wanted to blast himself away to the sun because ‘how can you be such an idiot and not recognize someone you went to school with for actual years’. But most importantly he kept reminding himself that I’m not gay.   
And he really wasn’t. He never was and never will be, unless he was far into the alcohol or something else. There just was no way that the only heir to the Malfoy’s, the one who could (as his father said) continue the line. So even if he was (which he wasn’t), he could never come out to anyone, not even his friends. So that was exactly what he was going to do.  
It did seem like a marvelous idea at the time, just take Blaise out, get coffee together, sit down in a park, hope he isn’t going to spit out the coffee he had in his mouth and tell him. But because Draco Malfoy is apparently the protagonist of a dumb comedy, the universe decided to play a joke on him.  
It was just him and Blaise in this late fall afternoon in the small park near his flat, they sat down next to a sycamore tree. There weren’t many people around, some mothers with their kids hanging around the nearby playground, and some busy, passing by strangers, that disappeared with the same speed they came in.   
“So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”   
Draco gulped, he was even paler than usual and his stomach did flips and couldn’t handle anything that is digested within it. Blaise looked at him with one of those carefully given looks that are intended to look past a person’s veneer.   
“You don’t look that great, Draco. What is going on?” He looked genuinely worried, and Draco was glad, but he could get himself to say the words he planned so carefully hours beforehand. They were stuck in his throat, and he himself couldn’t come to the terms that he’s doing… this.   
“I… uh, I’m…” His words did come out, just a row of weird sounds that Blaise wasn’t quite able to distinguish between animal noises and his old school mate.   
And then it happened. Draco burst out in tears. Of course he did.   
Two grown men, sitting on a bench in the middle of a park in muggle London, with one holding his head between his knees and bawling his eyes out. ‘Wonderful,’ he thought to himself, ‘Absolutely wonderful, there is nothing more I would be rather doing than this’.   
Blaise, who sat there awkwardly did not know what to do, he wasn’t skilled enough in situations like this to say something encouraging (partly because he didn’t know what the problem was), and wasn’t sure if a hand around Draco’s shoulder would help him, or make the situation worse. He decided to risk it. It most definitely made the situation worse, and he was sure that if a police car would be nearby the would think someone was getting stabs because Draco’s cries and wails were so loud.   
“Draco, whatever it is, it’s alright,” Blaise has decided that the best way was to solve this situation calmly, calm Draco down first and then start thinking about the problem.   
Draco did start to calm down, his face was now red and blotchy, and he sniffled a bit but he sat up straight, Blaise’s arm still around him.   
“I hooked up with Harry Potter,” his face was blank, he stared in front of him, his eyes glazed.   
Blaise’s arm that was around Draco went slack, he gaped at him with a mixed expression of… everything. How was he supposed to react? He wasn’t mad or disgusted by Draco that he was gay. He was fucking furious that he had slept with the freaking Chosen One.   
“Are you kidding me?”   
“I understand if you don’t want to be in touch with me anymore, I understand that, it’s just that I really-”  
“Draco, I knew,”  
“You did?”   
“Yes,” And he was only partially lying. He knew that Draco wasn’t all Death Eaters, and blood supremacy. He knew he memorized Potter’s schedule, and he never really looked in Pansy’s direction, he knew that Draco wasn’t like everyone. He didn’t really mind all that much, but he was mad. He didn’t exactly know at what he was mad, maybe it was that his best friend thought he isn’t going to accept him, that he was with Harry, or… he didn’t know.  
“Draco, I really don’t care. If it’s blokes that make you happy, so be it. But Potter? Really?”   
“I was drunk, Zabini,”   
“Was he sober?”   
“No, I don’t think so. But I think he regretted it too,”   
“It doesn’t matter now, I’ll still stand by you, mate”   
“What now?”  
“Another cup of coffee?”  
“Yeah, sure”   
=====================================================================


End file.
